Hands
by DarkArts27
Summary: <html><head></head>"She knew what was coming but knew not to let it distract her current attentions. The questions and concerns could wait. This could not." Prentiss/JJ friendship/comfort. Prentiss/Hotch. Onehsot.</html>


**A/N: Hello hello. Wow, I think it's been over a year and a half since I've posted anything on here. This is my first foray in the CM world of FF, so please let me know what you think of this. I'm unsure of it, mainly because it's not been Beta'd and is quite likely horrid considering it's 3:30am when I'm posting and my mind is all over the place. Anyhow, I appreciate criticism and whatnot, so please let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended etc etc. **

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><p>She felt the material of the cushioning below her shift as another weight was added to the lounge. Her eyes needn't stray from her hands and the task they so fastidiously partook in; she knew who now occupied the seat and the issue they would be wishing to press. She knew what was coming but knew not to let it distract her current attentions. The questions and concerns could wait. This could not.<p>

Her fingers shakily shifted over each other, tips rubbing knuckles and caressing broken flesh and torn nail. She could still feel it. The warmth. The viscosity. The way it invaded every pore, tearing her consciousness from where it had needed to be. No amount of picking could remove it or ease the pain that it caused.

The figure to her right shifted slightly, awkwardness seeming to envelope the space between them. They knew she didn't want to hear what they had to say. They knew that they'd all come far too close to losing a friend that day, but knew that for her the experience was far more real than they could imagine. Their thanks and praise and kind questioning would only work to enforce the reality of the situation, to remind her of how close she had come to failing them all.

JJ's hand landed softly on her back, rubbing smooth, calming circles between her shoulder blades and she relaxed, slowly easing sideward to lean against her. The warm hand slid from her shoulders to her left arm, supporting her, protecting her.

"You saved him, Em," she whispered, her hand gently squeezing the arm in its grip.

It didn't matter. None of it did. All that mattered was getting it off her hands. From under her nails. From every pore that it had found its way to. From every surface that it had marred. From anywhere but under his skin. Her fingertips picked earnestly at the enflamed and bloodied skin. They had looked clean before but she knew it was a lie. She knew it remained hidden.

JJ's hand grasped hers as they fiddled in her lap. Her hand was warm and comforting and reassuring, when she needed it most.

"You need to stop." The blonde's voice was strained, as if choking back a sob.

Her hands paused their fussing, still shaking slightly beneath the calm one that grasped them. Her breaths were shaky and uneven as her head rested against JJ's shoulder, her eyes burning with tears unshed.

"I can't," she confessed, one hand moving above JJ's, gently clasping it between her own.

"I just can't."

Jennifer sighed softly as she hugged her, left arm still draped around her and holding her close. She'd not been there during the event. She'd not seen any of the damage. All that she had been privy to were the bloodstained hands and clothes of a silent Emily. She hadn't seen any of it.

A tear slid down her cheek, the surface tension compromised by the weight of the fluid her eyes were harbouring. She closed her lids in a weak fight against the tears, only causing more to spill and drip from her lower lashes. It felt like her fault. If only she'd been paying more attention. If only she hadn't let him lead. If only she'd noticed the faint movement of the curtains. If only they'd worn vests. If only she hadn't been so focused on his voice and chuckling at the remark he'd just made. His voice. There was a time after that point when she feared she'd never hear it again. Right after she'd disarmed the unsub and noted just how severe the damage was.

Her eyes were wild and her hands trembling as she'd applied pressure to the chest wound, blood seeping through her fingers and sliding down her hands. His breaths were shallow and strained, lacking the calming cadence they usually held. Minutes tricked by like the blood over hands and soon she heard sirens. Her fingers were numb from pressing so firmly against him and his breaths were rattling with the fluid entering his lung.

The sirens crept closer but panic gripped her. He was fading and there was nothing she could do to save him. She pleaded with him to stay awake, to think of Jack and the team and how their lives would fall apart without him. She pleaded. She begged. She felt his breaths halt and his body go limp and sag beneath her. She watched the life leave his eyes in that single moment before she was pushed away and medics took to him before loading him into the waiting ambulance.

That's what no one else had felt. What no one else had seen. All they had was the image of Emily smeared in blood; shaking, silent, lost.

When news came of the surgery's success they had all been overjoyed. She had even managed a smile, but that didn't change what had happened there; what no one else had been a part of.

Needed back in Quantico, they were sent home soon after and Rossi had volunteered to stay with him until such time as he was cleared to leave the hospital. She had wanted to protest, wanting to stay by his side until he was fully lucid and alive and breathing with that calming cadence she loved. But she didn't. She wasn't one to mess with the natural order of things and induce a wave of pitiful looks and unwanted questions.

JJ's fingers gently brushed over her own, slowly easing her mind back to the present, away from the guilt and the pain and the red that seemed to be everywhere.

"It's gone. I promise," she whispered softly, her words warm and comforting, just like the arm at her side and the hand on her own.

"It never will be," she whimpered in response.

"It never will be."

A voice overhead informed them of their descent and the women slowly separated from their friendly embrace. She glanced at her hands and silently admonished herself for the damage she'd inflicted. Her fingers would require covering to protect from anymore damage, whether from an external source or herself, but life would go on. They'd return to work and Hotch and Rossi would return home in a few days and things would begin to slip back into the pre-established routine. JJ would go home to Henry and Will, while Garcia would spend her nights and weekends with Kevin. Morgan and Reid would hang out at that bar on Fridays and Hotch would return home to Jack, thanking Jessica profusely for helping out that bit more after his injury.

She would head home each night alone. Like always. Her dreams would be plagued with images of the blood leaving his body and life leaving his eyes, and her fingers would remain tattered and torn for the weeks to come.

The cycle would continue. The pattern would remain. These things would never change. Not for her.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading, and please feel free to review and let me know what you think. **


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